


The Ascent

by elyus



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Canon and Filler, Character Study, Gen, Introspection, War, falling-out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:35:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26538961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elyus/pseuds/elyus
Summary: Climbing Korin Tower, a young Roshi reconsiders the past.Gift fic for a friend.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7
Collections: My Dragonball Favs





	The Ascent

He was not afraid of death. 

As he scaled the ivory tower, he reflected on this many a time. 

Dawn turned to dusk, and soon he was beyond a height even the loftiest bird wouldn’t easily dare climb. Even still, he couldn’t see the top of the tower. It was unnatural, he thought. Not of this world. 

When he was not reflecting on death, he wondered where he was. 

Above the clouds. Between hell and the heavens. 

If there really was a guardian, maybe he ought to be upset at them. It was probably a thankless job, being the man who goes after deities. But someone had ought to do it. It wasn’t right for them to be all the way up here, looking at the world through vultures’ eyes. 

Where were you, gods? He ought to say. Where were you, when the devils ran everything into the dust. 

But in this eerie darkness between reality and what’s divine, he remained quiet, and ascended. It was no use, being mad at gods. 

Sometimes he thought about the days before the demons came along. Was it 10, 20 years ago? It couldn’t have been 20, since there was no white in his hair and there was still a spring in his steps. But it seemed even longer ago, perhaps because the world was different then. 

He remembered days when he just sat in the shade, peering through half-closed eyelids at clouds passing by, the sun climbing high and then sinking low. The school bells rang, and children’s laughter echoed along unpaved roads. Down in the paddy fields, the farmer and his buffalo waded, with their shadows rippling on the water, toward home in the hills. Tinkers came by with tools chiming, pilgrims came by with their bamboo hats swaying, and women, coming back from a day at the markets, walked by with their feet dragging but faces warmed by smiles. 

On some days, a girl in a teal colored dress would drop by. They would exchange teasing words, mostly with her questioning why he was always flat on his back, dozing off in the sun. 

What would he like to do with life? What was he thinking about? He didn’t really know. He suggested that he was just waiting for things to happen. And that answer was never satisfying. 

In his mind, he could still see her walking away in the orange twilight, turning back, waving and laughing. But her face was obscured by shadows and memories. 

Nothing came of their exchanges, and not long after, he went away. 

Maybe he was ill-suited to be a martial artist after all. He thought as he paused to catch his breath. 

Between trying to kick a boulder in half and trying to woo a girl, he’d go for the girl. 

Those were equally hard, and if you manage to kick a boulder in half, well, you just get two smaller boulders. 

The night was getting cold. 

Suddenly, he was reminded of a conversation he had with Shen. It was their second winter up in the mountains. The wind was brutal, and the snow was up to his knees. They were out training before sunrise, wearing only light autumn gowns. 

“This is bullshit,” his friend said. “I want to go back to sleep.”

“It’s only been an hour,” he pointed out.

“You know what,” Shen tilted his head. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Yea?”

“We should leave the school.” 

“No thanks. I’ll pass.” He said without thinking. 

“Wait, don’t you want to hear me out?”

“What’s there to say,” he shrugged. “It took me so long so get here. I’m not just gonna walk out the front door.” 

“But don’t you think this is getting pointless?” 

He shrugged again. 

“Think about it. We’re already better than the great majority of martial artists out there. Sure, there’s always more to learn, but do we really need to know all this stuff? If we exit the mountain right now, we can go back to the real world, set up a dojo, and fight some tournaments while we’re still young. We can make a lot of money, you and I.” 

“Is that what you want?” He looked at his friend.

“Maybe. I mean, it’d sure beat what we’re doing right now.” 

“But that was not the reason you sought Master, right?” 

“I was poor,” Shen said slowly. “I wanted to be less poor. And now I’ve found my way. Get off your high horse, didn’t you come here to learn to impress girls?” 

“Impress girls, have something to do, get stronger, and so on.” 

“So, what’s the big deal? We all got the skills we needed. Why not leave now?” 

“I don’t think that’d make us happy,” he replied. “At least, I wouldn’t be happy. I think we’re both looking for something more, wouldn’t you agree?” 

His friend was quiet. They trained in silence, and snow started to fall. 

“Fine,” Shen eventually said. “I guess I wouldn’t really be content. But damnit, I just wish I knew what’s the point. What’s the meaning? What are we training for? We have all this strength and skill, and it’s all just wasted.” 

There was frost on the tower. He stood still and saw his warm breath condensing into small clouds of steam. 

He wondered how Shen had felt when their skills finally came into use. 

And as it turned out, it was not enough. 

He had heard rumors of the demons, but at first, wished that it was just some sort of dumb metaphor. But the demons were real, and their wrath was swift. 

Soon the whole world caught fire. 

When they arrived at the town, it was already too late. Through the smoke, he saw Shen clench his fists. He was mostly impassive. There was nothing to feel. There was nothing left. On the side of the path were a few scorched remains of what used to be trees, but where the town roughly stood was just a giant crater. There was burning debris scattered for miles. Dumbstruck as he was, he finally managed to say: "We have to go tell Master." 

"Tell him what?" Shen snarled. "What could he possibly do?" 

"We can help organize the others to chase after the demons..."

"And we all will die." 

He had no retort. 

"This is stupid," his friend kept saying. "This is insane." 

"He wants to go after them," he thought. "But fear is stopping him." Fear and other things. 

"You go and inform the others," he told Shen. "I'll stay and look for survivors." 

Shen left without a word. As his friend’s footsteps faded, he ventured into the rubble. 

There was a smell of death. Charred wood. Burnt rubber. Singed flesh. 

He looked and there were no survivors. Sometimes he would find a body that still somewhat resembled a man. 

"What’s the use?" Shen’s words echoed. "What's the meaning?" 

He sat down upon a slab of fallen wall. It wasn't until he saw droplets splattering on the seared ground when he realized tears were flowing down his face. 

Eventually, the other disciples must’ve came, but it was all a blur.

He hugged the column tightly. Perhaps sleep would come. He was not afraid. Somehow, he felt he would not fall. Even if he did, he was strangely okay with it.

"The Master," his let mind wander. “He always knew what he had to do.”

He had trained with the Master for many years. The Master had dozens of pupils. Martial artists traveled from halfway across the world to see the old man. Somehow, he and Shen ended up being two of the more talented ones. 

The Master was a man of few words, but he was not at all unkind. Even as a somewhat oblivious teen, he could still see that the Master cared about people deeply. And that had made their defeat at the hands of demons much worse. 

They didn’t even need to look for the demons, because the demons had no intention to hide. Every inch of land under the sky was their playground, and their king were the king of all things. 

In a darkness much like the one surrounding him, they traveled in groups of 3. There was Shen in the lead, and an older boy whose name he could not remember. They raced across the landscape, soaring over bushes and streams, relying on only their instincts. The demons were always a step ahead. Not because they were scared of comeuppance, but because the challengers that came along weren’t even worth waiting. 

On the plains, another city collapsed in flames. Sparks shots at the sky, and the open countryside carried the sounds of screams. In the firelight were shapes with wings hovering above the wreckage. He wondered why they mostly attacked at night. Maybe because in the dark, everything became more distorted and dreamlike. Even death itself seemed like a mirage. 

He had only seen the Demon King twice. Once in the firelight and once at the end. 

“He seemed the type for poetics,” he mused. “The kind of murderer who thinks screams are music and blood is wine.” 

He was not afraid now, but maybe he was then. Or maybe it had never crossed his mind that death could be so cheap and evil so pointless. Revelations like those could break a man. In the firelight, he had turned questioningly towards his friend, but Shen was quickly drifting away with a disassociating look on his face. 

Somewhere out there, was his Master and the Great Demon King. 

Shen had warded off the demons’ attacks with precision, but it was all more instinctual than thought out. The third boy had died. So far, he was still breathing, but they were driven into a corner and the demons were closing in. 

“We gotta work together,” he suddenly said. “We must break through and find the Master.” 

“This WALL of demons?” Shen said in disbelief. 

“Yes.” 

“And then, you propose that we go and help fight the King?” 

“Yes.” 

“You are mad. We are going to get killed.” 

“We are going to get killed either way.” 

“You’re certainly something, you know that?” His friend shook his head. “Trying to be a hero in a moment like this.” 

“I’m not trying to be a hero. I’m trying to live. It might just be 5 minutes longer, but it’s still worth a try.” 

“Okay,” Shen nodded, but he did not seem convinced. 

Back to back, they fought, and it was the last time they did anything like this. 

The plan worked and they broke through the barrier. The weaker demons perished, and the stronger ones were taken aback. It seemed that neither of them was completely aware of what they were actually capable of. Protected by the chaos, they started running. 

The streets were littered with the wounded and the dead. A woman on the ground suddenly reached out and grabbed Shen’s leg.

“Help me,” she said. “Take me with you.” 

“Don’t worry,” he heard his friend say. “Stay. It will be over soon.” 

Shen shook her off and kept running. 

“What did you mean by that, exactly?” He asked. 

“The pain will only last a second, and it will all be over.” 

“You left her to die.”

“And what did you do?” Shen demanded. “What is your plan? We’re utter losers, can you not tell? There’s no helping anyone. It was you who said we should find the Master, and that is what we are doing.” 

“That’s the best we can do at the moment.”

“What a grand scheme,” Shen laughed. “Oh, for the greater good. The end will justify the means.” 

“You know I did not mean it that way.” 

“And you know what I think is true.” Shen replied darkly. 

How long had he slept? He did not know. There was a sliver of light on the horizon. An esoteric silver lining on his storm-clouded journey. He looked up, and the tower seemed to stretch on towards infinity. He resumed the climb. 

There was a strange cloud some way off the left of the tower. It was quite small, for one thing, and it was also colored gold. He stared at it for a while. It shimmered in the early morning sun and seemed to move ever so slightly. 

He looked away to focus on the ascent. When he looked back, it was gone. 

He didn’t think too deeply about it. The presence of strange clouds could only mean that even stranger things were near. He was lost in other thoughts. 

The Master had been defeated. His students could only look on in despair. 

The Demon King raised himself above the sea of destruction. The corner of his mouth twisted with cruel hilarity. 

“Is that all?” The King asked. “Behold, mankind’s greatest champions.” 

The hoard of underlings roared with laughter. 

He was prepared to jump into battle, but with one hand, Shen held him back.

He swept Shen’s grip aside. His friend took a step back in dismay. But instead of attacking the demons, he ran towards his wounded teacher. 

“You got what you wanted. We’re no threat to you, so let us be.” Shen shouted, but the words seemed to have drained every last bit of his strength. He knelt down, exasperated. 

“Very well,” the Demon King said. “I see some of you still have your senses intact. Remember your failure and spread the word of my supremacy.” 

With that, the King and his court departed. 

But the Master could not accept failure, and before his wounds were even fully healed, he went off alone. 

Deep in the mountains, two disciples patiently waited. Physically, Shen was present, but mentally, he was getting further and further away. It was all clear now, that his friend was becoming someone else. 

He alone waited, not only with his body, his mind, but also with his belief. He knew what Shen would’ve said: “The Master was a fool. He left because he was ashamed of his defeat.” But what Shen couldn’t see that night was the look in the Demon King’s eyes. Perhaps he had imagined it, but the Master’s attack evoked something in the villain’s haughty expression that had not exist there before. 

He fancied that the thing was fear. 

Even though the Master was no match for the Demon King’s might, the act of defiance alone had upset the King. 

But what did it mean? 

Perhaps it meant that the enemy was not so invincible. 

“The demons,” he pondered. “They are not used to uncertainty. They fight because they feel assured that their strength is absolute. From defiance comes doubt, from doubt comes fear, and demons don’t know what to do with fear.” 

“But we have always fought despite our insecurity at everything that comes our way. We have always lived with fear.” 

“The Master will win,” from the depth of the cave, he shouted out. Shen looked at him and said nothing. 

Another day and night had gone by. His legs were weary, and his fingers grew numb. There was nothing visible above and nothing visible all the way down. A shooting star fell across the indigo sky. The universe opened before him, and he saw things that no man had ever lived to see. 

He was not afraid of heights and death.

If he were afraid, he would’ve left like Shen, long ago. 

He vaguely recognized that he was becoming someone associated with greatness. 

But what of the Master? What of mankind’s last hero? 

For what was the use of training, after all the battles were fought by another? What would it mean to become the greatest, when the real hero was dead and not remembered? 

Ever since that day the Master died, he had struggled with life to keep a belief alive. 

One day, the two disciples heard footsteps at the mouth of the cavern and rejoiced. 

The Master explained that he had travelled far in search of what was needed, and finally he had perfected a technique that would allow him to defeat the Great Demon King. 

But as stories go, victory always comes with a steep price.

He would never forget the terror on the villain’s face as he plunged into the depth of nothing. 

It was a befitting end, if it weren’t for one small thing.

The Master fell.

From the corner of his eyes, he saw the last of who he was drain from Shen’s face. His friend disappeared into the wilderness in bitterness and disillusion. 

He buried the Master and sunk the container into the sea. 

Finally! He saw the balcony at the top of the tower. He was so excited that he almost lost his grip. Though he was greatly weakened by hunger and exhaustion, he climbed like the wind for the home stretch. 

When he finally saw the immortal in the pavilion, he was not all that impressed. 

So, it was certainly a relief that his disappointment was short lived. It was also satisfying to know that even gods couldn’t have achieved what his Master, a mere mortal, had achieved. 

For many moons, he lived atop the tower, and it was said that one could see almost everything from up there. 

Once, he saw that his first love had survived the war and married.

Once, he saw his former friend had a falling-out with his brother. They were both on their ways to becoming their own monsters. 

Once, he saw weeds growing tall on his Master’s grave. 

There were three vats on the tower. One contained the past, one the present and one the future. 

In the first, he saw pleasure and folly.

In the second, he was lonely and haunted by memories. 

He never could bring himself to open the third. 

Years later, as he descended the tower, swift as a swallow and lithe as an egret, he thought that he was not afraid of death. 

The wind was gentle. The sun was warm. A golden cloud followed him. 

He was not afraid of death, but he was afraid of becoming another. 

The certainty that comes with knowing gods told him that there was nothing but rebirth on the other side. 

It was not hard to admit that he loved life. He loved its sweetness and its pain, but most of all, it’s memories. 

He would like to keep the memories. 

It was then when he decided that he was going to live forever. 

He summoned the nimbus, soared through the sky and became the Master.


End file.
